The Lonely Soul
by KaiserMoran
Summary: A Multi-chapter story based on the characters and content from Lockwood and Co. *I do not own Lockwood and Co* This is my first story so reviews would be wonderful! When Lockwood and Co. take on a Solitary in the countryside, they don't realise the mistake someone has made until a life had been claimed.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

With one hand occupying her rapier, and the other resting lightly on her belt, Lucy tried her hardest not to trip on the hidden roots in the dark. It was a cold, cloudy night; not even the moon provided them with even the slightest bit of light. Lockwood was a few metres ahead, bearing a torch which Lucy was relying on. Her own was slotted in her belt, ready to be used if they needed to split up. Behind her stumbled George, who was carrying his torch like Lockwood and feeding them snippets of information. However, Holly had decided not to come, and was busy sorting out dirty clothes and the state of the house.

"So, what we've got here is a solitary." George suddenly stated.

"Yeah, tell us something we don't know." Lucy commented. She was most certainly not looking forwards to this one. Solitaries have got to be one of her least favourite type of ghost. Not that any of them were likeable, even the skull. Especially the skull. The effect that had one people, mentally, could be just as dangerous as being locked in a room with a poltergeist.

"Well, he, Rowan McCoy, was buried in an unmarked grave out here. With his dog... I think." George stated, frowning in thought. Lockwood raised an eyebrow.

"With his dog?"

"Yes."

"Oh... ok."

Just as Lucy was about to say something, a voice sounded from her backpack. "Getting warmer." It whispered. Sighing, Lucy nodded, not caring if he could tell of not.. She already knew. There had been a large temperature drop in the past minute, with no visible change in weather. There was a slight sense of malaise settling over her.

The woods around them seemed dead. Not a single sign of life, other than the three agents wandering blindly through the woods, with no certain sense of direction. Not bird, nor beast, nor bug had shown any sign of existence, and Lucy thought that they couldn't be more isolated. Somewhere nearby, a desolate cottage sat, occupied by a weak old lady. She had called them, reporting the ghost. And here they were.

Without warning, Lockwood stopped, almost causing Lucy to walk into him. "Sorry." She mumbled and he smiled, despite the feeling of creeping fear that they could feel, winding itself around them like a snake. Turning to address the others, he whispered, "Ok, so, we're very near. Just remembered to not let it overwhelm you with its ghost-lock, ok?" They nodded and he turned around again, only to freeze. Peering around him, Lucy spotted it. Somehow it had snuck up on them and was watching them from a long distance away, through a thin gap in the trees.

The apparition had the form of a tall boy, with extremely thin arms and legs. From where they stood the features were invisible, and it simply looked like a lonely, pale silhouette. Without too much hesitation Lockwood began to creep towards it, but when Lucy tried to follow, she found that she couldn't even move her legs, and her eyes were transfixed on the lonely boy in the distance.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

"Lucy, move." George whispered urgently, "Go." He stepped forwards and put his hand on her shoulder. She couldn't. She wanted to move, but her body was refusing. Ghost-lock had claimed her.

Lockwood had sliced his rapier straight through the apparition, causing it to fizzle out like a sparkler. He knew it would be back. And it was. Right behind him it appeared, and he was only saved by a shout from George and Lucy, desperately getting ever closer. Again, he sliced, this time falling short. Now, he'd put himself in a vulnerable position. The ghost could easily reach forwards and touch him as he'd opened up his chest. Hurriedly, he tried to bring his sword around, but the ghost was quicker. It lunged and Lockwood closed his eyes.

Yet, nothing happened. Instead of feeling the same horrific icy burn that he felt the first time he was ghost-touched, he felt nothing. Tentatively he opened his eyes, and found himself looking at a very sweaty George, shining a torch in his face. "Are you ok?" He demanded.

"Yes, I'm fine. Thank you for that."

"No problem. If Lucy hadn't got caught up back there," he glanced back at her, "We would've been here with you."

"Well I'm sorry! This _is_ a Solitary we're talking about. You know they have very strong ghost-lock. And anyway, you-" Her defence was cut short by Lockwood pushing her aside to take a swing at the apparition that had formed behind her. It moved back a bit, aware that it would struggle against three people. They all ganged up on it, slashing and slicing. All the while it moved back, watching them with a desolate expression on its pale, glowing face. Suddenly, it twisted until it little more than a flickering, cloud. It moved very quick, but not very far. A few metres away from the agents, it dove into the ground, right beneath a tree.

"Well." Lockwood stated, shining his torch up and down the tree, "I think we may struggle to dig this up."

"You think?" Lucy sighed, exasperated.

"We should mark it and notify the council. They can hire someone to dig it up themselves." George suggested.

"I think we should." Lockwood agreed and moved forwards to study the tree. "Does anyone have any chalk? Paint?"

"No."

"Nah, sorry."

"Hmm... we'll just have to remember it."

"What?" The others said in unison.

"Look. It's the only pine in we've seen this whole time."

"I dont know... I haven't exactly been focusing on the trees." Lucy murmured.

"Well, I know. We know the direction and distance roughly, right?"

"Yep." Assured George.

"Ok. Let's chain up this location before it tries its luck again."


	3. Chapter 3

Lockwood, Lucy and George, now joined by Holly, peered at the uprooted tree. It was two days since the investigation and the locals had wasted no time in digging up the remains. Now, finally, they'd unearthed the skeleton, still with strips of cloth clinging onto the stained bones. And, like George had said, he'd been buried with the remains of a small dog.

To their surprise, Barnes had sent a lorry down to collect the body upon hearing of the agents' recent case. The bloated, red-faced driver assigned was quick with loading Rowan McCoy into the DEPRAC truck, but reluctant to take the dog. Lucy on the other hand, was determined to make him take it. Fuming, she started to have a go at the driver, and the others slowly edged away from her until they were at a good distance. They didn't want to get involved.

"But you have to take it! Maybe he wanted to be buried with his dog for a reason."

"Like what?"

"Well, maybe it was his dying wish!"

"Why would he want that?"

"Maybe he loved his dog. May he was his best friend!"

"Listen, sweetie, I ain't taking a dog. Just bury it again!"

"Just burn it with it's owner!"

"Its not got permission to be burnt."

"Thats stupid, just burn it anyway!"

"No!"

"Take it!" Lucy demanded and the driver rolled his eyes.

"Fine!"

He stormed over to the dog's body, wrapped up and sitting next to the unearthed tree. Nobody dared to question him, and he snatched it up and flung it onto the lorry. As he climbed into the driver's seat Lucy glared at him and he drove off quickly, his red face somehow even redder than before.

Satisfied, Lockwood travelled with the others back to 35 Portland Row. There had been no delays in traffic, so it had been a am love bus journey, except for the annoying child that had kept on kicking the back of George's seat until he'd turned around and snapped, only to get a ton of verbal abuse from the mother. The four sat down in the sitting room, and helped themselves to a custard cream and a cup of tea.

Meanwhile, the stubborn driver rolled into an alley. Why should he be ordered around by a girl? He threw open the back of his lorry and reached for the dog. He wasn't going to do as he was told. It was stupid anyway, wasting energy on burning the dog. It would just be easier to dump it here. Without wasting any more time he dropped it into a bin and drove away. He wouldn't have to face the humiliation of the others finding out what had happened.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

One week passed since the case of Rowan McCoy, and there had been plenty of little jobs since. A weak spectre on Thursday, a raw-bones on Saturday, the usual business. The morning was bright; birds a-singing, cars a-speeding, and tea a-brewing. The four agents crouched, still in their colourful pyjamas, over the table. The remains of a pile of crumpets sat between them all, mostly devoured by George. Everyone was smiley and happy, for once no-one felt tense. Lockwood stood, and as if on que the kettle let out a pitiful wail. "Who wants tea?" He asked.

"Me, please." The others replied in unison.

"I'll help you." Lucy offered and left George and Holly to continue their conversation on the subject of socks. Following Lockwood through to the kitchen, she commented, "You're happy this morning."

"When am I not?" He asked, smirking, as he methodically placed tea bags in each mug.

It was true that he did seem to be content all the time, to say the least. Unless a sensitive area is mentioned. Then he sometimes seems to retract into himself and can be very reserved for periods from about an hour up to a few days. "Well, you know what I mean. More happy."

Lockwood chuckled and shrugged dismissively. "I'm just looking forwards to later."

"Why, what's happening later?" Lucy probed, suddenly becoming curious. She hadn't heard about anything happening later! Had he planned something without her?

"There's going to be a big thunderstorm. That's if the weatherman was right for once." He poured the water into the mugs, one by one, then swivelled round to face Lucy. "There hasn't been one in ages. I do love thunderstorms."

Relaxing, Lucy smiled. She was relieved to hear this, and a little bit amused. "Well, they're ok I guess." She commented. Tea isn't complete without a good biscuit to go with it. Frowning, she crouched down and dug around in the cupboard. Warmly, Lockwood smiled and watched her. He felt this serenity when he watched her, that he'd never felt before whilst being near anyone else. Suddenly, this was broken as she pulled her head out of the cupboard, bringing a couple of sweet wrappers with her. "Hey, Lockwood, we're running low on biscuits. There's just loads of empty packets!" She said, concerned. Eventually she found a leftover packet of Nices and flourished them. "These are all we have left!"

"Well, they'll have to do. We can stock up later." He said, grabbing two of the mugs. Lucy, holding the biscuit packet under her chin like some sort of weird circus act, took the remaining two and carried them out into the living room. She ignored the sniggers from George and presented the biscuits like a prize. "It's all we have. Make the most of it." Before she could take one for herself, they all heard a familiar thump from the front door that signified the newspaper being delivered. Lucy volunteered and practically skipped through the hallway. Suddenly, her smile was wiped from her face as she read the headline on the front page: Two Dead, Killed by Solitary.


End file.
